The Man with the Double Heart Part 71

Into the beautiful childish face came a tenderness he had never known--the dream come true ... the "dream of his life."

"I suppose--I must marry you," said Jill.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

Miss Elizabeth Uniacke wore an aggressive air.

She stood in front of the mirror, her gray eyes critical, studying the effect of her newly made gown.

On her knees beside her a stout dressmaker waited, in mute suspense, her mouth full of pins. Her att.i.tude was that of profound admiration, but in her heart she quailed, foreseeing the verdict.

"Too tight round the ankles," said Aunt Elizabeth.

Mrs. Crouch, between the pins, bleated her dismay. She a.s.sured "Meddam" it was the latest fashion: that to alter it by a "hair-breadth" was to "ruin the cut!"

"I can't help that----" Miss Uniacke scowled--"I've told you before--I won't be trussed like a fowl. I don't care what frights other women make of themselves! I've my own style, and I shall keep to it."

She placed her pretty hands to either side of her waist, tightly confined by a broad Petersham belt, and with a little wriggle of her angular body seemed to shoot up like a crocus on its stem.

Mrs. Crouch swallowed a heavy sigh--a somewhat difficult and precarious performance!

Pins still sprouted from between her lips and she gathered up the scissors with a tragic gesture. Slowly she unpicked the two side seams.

"That's better!" Miss Uniacke gave an unexpected movement, followed by an ominous rending sound.

"Ha!" she cried triumphantly. "You see for yourself!--I can't walk a step. It's ridiculous!"

Mrs. Crouch sighed.

"We _might_..." she suggested, "leave one side open. With--perhaps--a b.u.t.ton?"

"And show my legs!" At the wrath in her client's voice the dressmaker breathed a hurried:

"Oh, Meddam!--Indeed, Meddam, I had no intention--I was going to suggest a fold ... underneath..."

"Not at all!" The irate lady snapped. "You've plenty of turnings.

Let it out. That's better ... Now, pin it ... There!----" Again she took a step forward. "I can move at last. I'm sure I don't know what we're coming to! You'll be asking me next to dye my hair blue! In _my_ young days..."

There came a low tap at the door, breaking through the current of her memories.

"Come in!--What is it?" She wheeled round, displeased.

"If you please, Mum." The parlour maid stood there, gaunt and prim.

"It's Mr. McTaggart asking to see you."

"Shut that door!--Now, what do you mean, Maria? You know I'm engaged.

Tell him I'm out."

But the elderly servant stood her ground. "He's in the drawing-room, if you please, Mum. I told him you was h'occupied--but he said he could wait." She cast an openly inquisitive glance at her mistress'

dress. The new Autumn gown was an "event" in that quiet household.

"Indeed." Aunt Elizabeth's voice was acid. "Well, he _can_ wait, then! You'd no business, Maria, to let him in at all. You take too much on yourself."

"I'm sorry, Mum. But the card in the hall said 'h'_In_,' not 'h'_Out_,' so 'ow was I to tell?" She tossed her head with an air of injured innocence.

"That will do." Miss Uniacke's eyes had wandered back to the mirror, irresistibly attracted.

It certainly _was_ smart ... The colour suited her.

"Perhaps I'd better go and get it over," she said. "If these pins will hold?" She addressed the kneeling figure.

"I'll make sure, Meddam." Mrs. Crouch smiled. She came to work "by the day" and was not at all averse to a spell of idleness reaped from the occasion.

But Aunt Elizabeth guessed her secret thought. "You can have your tea now, instead of later on. That will save time." Mrs. Crouch sighed.

"Yes, Meddam." She drove a pin upward with the amiable desire that Miss Uniacke should risk, when she sat down, a reminder of the fact!

The unconscious victim rustled through the hall. That, she decided, was the best of taffetas. It had a distinctive and aristocratic note.

Her temper was soothed by the gentle frou-frou.

McTaggart was standing talking to the parrot who, after the manner of those wayward birds, received his advances with a stony silence, and sharpened, at intervals, his beak on the perch.

"How do you do?" Her guest wheeled round quickly at Miss Uniacke's voice, his face eager. "This is good of you! I heard you were engaged and was prepared to wait for hours! Polly refused to take pity upon me," he added as they shook hands.

"Silly fool!" said the parrot explosively, the moment McTaggart turned his back.

Aunt Elizabeth, fearing that worse might follow, picked up the baize cover and blotted the bird out effectually.

"He gets so tiresome," she explained. "Won't you sit here?" and was settling herself on the sofa facing her visitor when she rose with a startled look of pain.

"Silly fool!" came from the cage in m.u.f.fled accents. "Ha ... ha ...

ha!"

"A pin!" said Aunt Elizabeth, gingerly sinking down again. "The fact is I was being fitted on with a new dress when you arrived. I didn't like to keep you waiting, so I came as I was--pins and all!"

"It's a very pretty one," said McTaggart--"suits you, too. Such a jolly colour."

"You think so?" The little old lady was pleased and a slight flush warmed her face.

"I suppose," said McTaggart as the pause prolonged itself and he felt she was waiting to gather the object of his visit; "I suppose you've heard about ... Mrs. Uniacke?"

The moment the words had pa.s.sed his lips he knew he had made a tactless start.

For his hostess bristled visibly.